Music Monday: Sigur Ros

Who else could it be this week apart from Sigur Ros?  While I've always quite liked them (if found some songs overexposed by countless adverts and soundtracks), I've never got it like I did when I was in Iceland.  Listening to Takk as I walked around Reykjavik was a moment of musical perfection. 

Se Lest's chiming glockenspiels and parping brass bands combined with Jonsi's ethereal and otherworldly vocals sound how Iceland looks.  If this video - taken from their DVD release, Heima, and featuring a combination of footage from the band's 2006 tour of Iceland and shots of Icelandic scenery - isn't enough to make you want to get on the next plane to Keflavik then you are very possibly dead inside.

Music Monday: One Direction

As much as my CD collection shouts 'indie purist' and my festival- and gig-going habits are unimpeachable, every so often a pop song comes along that I fall for.  Biology by Girls Aloud, Dynamite by Taoi Cruz, Three Colours In Her Hair by McFly are all songs that I happily rate as some of my favourite singles of all time.  In fact, I think the single is where pop music comes into it's own.  Bands like Midlake or Bonnie Prince Billy might release album after album of amazing songs that work as a coherent whole, but can they write a three minute pop gem that gets everyone dancing at weddings?

My latest pop obsession is about as wrong as it gets: a group manufactured by evil overlord of pop, Simon Cowell, and managed by his ever-so-aptly-named Syco company.  But if this is wrong, I don't want to be right.  From the opening bars which blatantly rip off Summer Nights to the McFly-like "nah nah nah"s in the bridge, I love You Don't Know You're Beautiful by One Direction and I defy you to listen to it and not feel a grin spread across your face.

Music Monday

Jeffrey Lewis is proof positive that, if at first you don't succeed (in this case, succeed to like a band), then try again.  When I saw him play with his band, The Junkyard, at Summer Sundae festival in 2008 I was underwhelmed to say the least.  I didn't enjoy the music, nor understand the relevance of his illustrations (which were projected onto a screen behind the stage).  When it came to the end of his set and a song called Creeping Brain, accompanied by a full-on animated film about, well, a creeping brain, I'd had enough of what I felt was self-indulgent, Brooklyn hipster shit.

Fast forward a year, and I'm sitting in the film tent at Latitude having dragged myself out of bed early to catch a special performance by Lightspeed Champion.  The audience waits, and waits... and finally an annoucement comes on that they (he?) are not going to make it and replacing them (him?) is none other than Jeffrey Lewis and the Junkyard.  Well, it was raining outside and I was somewhat hungover, so despite hating them at Summer Sundae I stayed put.  And was I ever glad I did.  Something in their performance just clicked for me.  It might have been their cover of Nirvana's Sifting illustrated with cartoons that this time I found delightfully whimsical and amusing instead of contrived and confusing.  It might have been the more accessible songs from his then-new album, Em Are I, such as Roll Bus Roll and Slogans, which have since become favourites of mine.  Or it might have been his, and brother Jack's (the bassist in The Junkyard), engaging banter with the audience.  Whatever it was, I was converted and have since seen him live a couple more times. 

So today, in honour of the silly little dance I did when I discovered that not only is Jeff touring the UK later in the year but coming to Leicester too (no-one comes to Leicester!), Jeffrey Lewis & The Junkyard are my Music Monday choice.  I've gone for the video for To Be Objectified, a rather lovely little acoustic song from the last album that has the most fantastic video, drawn and directed by Jeffrey Lewis himself.  He is truly a man of many talents, and I kick myself for not seeing it sooner.

Karima Francis @ The Glee Club, Birmingham 30th September 2011

In July 2007 I was at the Latitude festival in Suffolk and happened upon a singer called Karima Francis at the In The Woods stage which, as the name suggests, is a small stage in a clearing in the middle of the woods.  The entire tent was silent, focused on this incredible-looking musician playing acoustic guitar and singing with a voice the size of which belied her tiny frame.  I only saw her final song, but it was nevertheless the highlight of my entire festival.  Fast forward 18 months and Francis released her debut album, The Author, appeared on Jools Holland, and promptly disappeared off the face of the earth due to mysterious "health issues".

Well, two years later and Karima Francis has "come back from the dead", in her words, been back in the studio recording a new album (with PJ Harvey producer Flood, no less) and just embarked on a tour of the UK.  Tonight she begins with a couple of new tracks, including the lovely Remedy (which is to be the title track of the next album) and quickly demonstrates that a couple of years away from music have done nothing to dull her passion nor alter her remarkable voice.

And what a voice it is: on The Author she effortlessly moves across almost two scales within the space of one word and there is a richness to her singing that gives texture and depth to songs which might otherwise be mere 'radio friendly unit shifters'.  Yet for all the strength of Francis' voice, there's a fragility about her that makes you want to give her a cuddle.  Her query, "Are you not bored yet?" raises chuckles the first time, but becomes rather plaintive when asked again.  Happily the rest of her between-song chat is more confident (and extremely funny: a rumination on Blackpool rock littered with innuendo being a highlight) although at times she seems overwhelmed by the enthusiastic audience response, which borders on the adoring.

Each song is simple, performed on acoustic guitar, and her lyrics deal with love and, more often, the loss of love.  Nothing terribly earth-shattering there, but the frankness of her words and the vulnerability in her voice makes the songs sound terribly intimate.  They take the listener into the heart of the relationship and even into the bed, as in gig closer Stay, when she sings "asleep on my chest you lay," with such longing that it rises above cliche to become something far more moving and special.

Check out her Facebook page for upcoming gigs and to take a listen.

Music Monday

Short and sweet today as I'm at work and will be until gone 8pm, but in honour of my upcoming trip to Iceland here's Joga from Bjork's Homogenic album.  Amazing video by Michel Gondry.

Not buying it: week # 4

The first week was easy; I enjoyed the challenge in the second week; last week I had Ofsted to worry about.  But this week I have started to struggle.  The thing is, I like shopping.  I enjoy spending a lazy afternoon wandering round the bookshops in Clarendon Park or oohing over the dresses in H&M.  I'm one of those strange people who actually enjoys supermarkets and can quite happily while away hours browsing the aisles in Tesco, popping bargain clothes and kitchen implements I don't really need into my trolley.  Making it even harder is the fact that some of the clothes in the shops at the moment are so lovely.  Polka dots are everywhere this autumn and I adore polka dots.  I love cardigans and woolly jumpers and brogues and thick tights and everything else that's just hit shop floors. 

However, my self-control has surpassed anything I could have anticipated.  This afternoon I found myself at Leicester's out of town shopping centre (to return a broken vacuum cleaner, so totally allowed), and having had a shitty lesson last thing this afternoon was even toying with the idea of treating myself to something.  "Who'll know?" I thought.  After all, I live on my own so smuggling something into the house wouldn't be a problem.  I walked into Dotty P's, looked at the lovely dresses on display longingly and... walked out again.  I just couldn't do it.  Even an utterly gorgeous dress (with - what else? - polka dots) in Sainsburys couldn't tempt me.  "Three more weeks," I repeated to myself as I scurried back to the car.

A few years ago (even, perhaps, a few weeks ago) there is no way I would be able to walk away without buying something I wanted.  I was totally in thrall to the 'must have it, and must have it now' mentality that is so pervasive in modern society.  I'm frankly amazed that in the space of four weeks I have managed to reprogramme myself so effectively.  Whether it will last when the experiment, with it's clear rules, has finished is another matter.

Music Monday

I was walking into Leicester to meet someone for a second date, my iPod playing on shuffle.  It slowly dawned on me that perhaps this guy wasn't 'the one' when Lone Wolf began.  If you're on the way to a date and the song that strikes a chord includes the lyrics "I am a lone wolf/Nobody needs to get too close to me", then you have a pretty good clue of where the relationship might be heading. 

jbistheinitial

A bit of background first: JB actually are my initials.  J for Janet, a name I was never too fond of, carrying with it a whiff of school dinner ladies or golf club wives.  As a child surrounded by Sarahs, Emmas and Nicolas, I felt my name stood out (and not in a good way).  Now I quite like the fact that no-one else between the ages of 0 and 45 shares my name.  B for Brown, my surname, a name so dull and workaday it makes me yawn. 

jbistheinitial has been my online persona for years after it became a nickname of sorts.  When I was in my late teens I worked at a rock/indie club in Leicester (then called Alcatraz).  Around this time American hop hop duo The Jungle Brothers released a track which featured the repeated refrain of "JB is the initial...".  After one play by the DJ on my birthday it became my anthem, often played by other DJ friends when I arrived at a club or bar.  I have to say, after years of disliking my name, having my initials turned into something to herald my arrival (in fact, having my arrival being something that was worth heralding at all) felt pretty good.

All of which is a looooong way of explaining my username.  And also of explaining why my house is a veritable riot of Js and Bs, such as this mug I found in Anthropologie in New Orleans, and was convinced would be in pieces by the time I came home a month later.  That it survived intact in my rucksack is a miracle.  That it cost only $6 is even more of a miracle, Anthropologie goods being only slightly less expensive than pure gold.

Or this intricate metalwork J that I picked up in Urban Outfitters in Seattle, and which hangs on my landing.

My love for typography is well documented here, but my Js and Bs are particularly special.  Because JB is the initial...

Not buying it: day # 8

Yesterday I completed week one of seven in my experiment and so far, so good.  With rather fortuitous timing, the post on Friday yielded up my yearly bank statement, a terrifying/brilliant (delete as appropriate) new idea from my bank.  It's an A4 booklet full of charts, diagrams and lists showing where, when and how I spent my money over the past 12 months.  Well, considering in 7 of those months I spent more than I paid in, this experiment is definitely long overdue.  The thing is, I earn a good salary, certainly compared to my days as a wage slave at Waterstones when my take-home pay was just over £600 a month.  But I've always been profligate with money and have always struggled with deferring a purchase, subscribing more to the Veruca Salt school of acquisition: I want it, and I want it now.  But looking at that yearly statement I realised that some months I was happily spending upwards of £500 (so about what my entire salary was a decade ago) on travel deals, Amazon sprees, eBay bargains and endless new dresses and cardigans.  Not good.

The past week has been something of a revelation.  Walking into the supermarket this afternoon, I turned right towards groceries instead of left towards clothing and in doing so managed to finish the shopping within 15 minutes.  Every marketing email from internet retailers goes straight into the 'Trash' file, freeing up at least 10 minutes of extra work time first thing in the morning.  And instead of whiling away my evenings on Asos or the Dotty Ps website I have been baking cakes, writing to friends and crafting like mad.  Would I want to extend this experiment past 7 weeks?  Hell no, but so far I'm pleasantly surprised at how easy I am finding it.

Music Monday

Not really a memory or even a proper story this week, but just an awesome coincidence which affirms my love of 6 Music. 

One evening last week after work I was sitting at the kitchen table on my laptop while listening to the Steve Lamacq show.  Writing an email to my brother, I mentioned the band Belly.  As the word appeared on the screen, as I entered the final 'y' in fact, Gepetto started playing on the radio.  WHAT?!  I was so excited I did a little dance around my kitchen.  This version is from The Late Show 'No Nirvana' special in 1993.  I'm all about the 90s at the moment.